


Royaltea

by berryfartsart



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Beta Read, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, and maybe cry together sometimes, i just wanted some more regis and prompto interactions, old rich guy and blonde boy sit in a room and drink tea, possible promptis in the future, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 02:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14607717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryfartsart/pseuds/berryfartsart
Summary: Regis just circled another word in his book and took a sip from his cup, the quiet settling in for just a moment before suddenly the squeaking was back louder and quicker then before, as if the person outside was running down the hall. Regis furrowed his brow and looked up towards the noise, only to become startled as suddenly the door to his sitting room was flung open and a small form shoved itself in and quickly shut the door behind it. Standing before him was a shivering blonde boy, soaked to the bone and wearing a messy school uniform.“May I help you, son?” Regis asked, a bit perplexed at this unexpected visitor, setting his cup down onto its saucer.





	Royaltea

**Author's Note:**

> so i know im supposed to be finishing up my other fic but this just wouldn't get out of my head so enjoy i guess
> 
>  
> 
> THANKS TO someobscurereference FOR BEING MY BETA AND MY FRIEND

 

Regis always took his tea at four o’clock every Wednesday.

 

He had picked up the habit from Aulea when they were young and spent their days running about the Citadel halls hiding from Regis’ retainer at the time. He remembered the first time Aulea had suggested it, both of them cramped up in a small supply room in the kitchens with a cascade of different teaware stacked carefully onto the shelves above their heads. They had grabbed random dishes, not knowing what exactly they were doing, and had sipped on what was just leaves sprinkled on top of lukewarm water that Aulea had in a plastic bottle she carried.

 

(It was still the best and worst cup of tea he has ever had in his lifetime.)

 

The cook had eventually found them sitting there in the dark, shoes and pants slightly dirty from the floor and mixed matched teaware surrounding them. She had a gentle, weathered face and strong hands that picked them both up by the ear and scolded them for giving his retainer the runaround all morning. Her words were harsh, but Regis remembered the warm twinkle in her eyes that looked like fondness. She made them wash and put back the dishes they had strewn across the closet floor and then showed them how to properly make tea.

 

Regis’ advisor had stumbled into the kitchens thirty minutes later, harried, breathless, and relieved to see the two children sipping tea calmly at the rickety wooden table the kitchen workers used to take their meals and breaks. The cook had just shook her head in exasperation at the young caretaker, shoved a cup of fresh tea into their hands, and gently pushed them towards the table to join the mischievous children in devouring the small sandwiches and cookies she had whipped up last minute.

 

Aulea had become obsessed with tea parties after that, constantly asking the cook to make her and Regis more tea and snacks almost daily, until one day the old woman just threw down her rag on the table and told Aulea to learn to make it herself.

 

“The King is going to starve if you keep interrupting my prep time, child!”

 

So with that Aulea learned what she could from the cook and — at the insistence of the elderly woman — knocked down their daily teatime to a weekly tea party in the royal gardens.

 

(Regis at the time was glad because he was starting to feel sick from all the tea and sugar but didn’t have the heart to tell Aulea for fear of upsetting her.)

 

As years passed, Aulea became more knowledgeable about tea etiquette, and the old cook had grinned with pride at the young girl, later gifting her with a beautiful porcelain tea set that was painted with breathtaking designs of the Astrals themselves jumping and swirling about the sides of the dishes. 

 

“Now, my grandfather himself made this with his bare hands,” the woman had said, “so be sure to take special care of this for me and make only the best tea with it.”

 

(Most of the tea set was broken after an assassin had broken into the Citadel. Regis had held Aulea as she cried over shattered porcelain and the body of the old cook who had died protecting them from the intruder.)

 

* * *

 

  
  


Regis had left Insomnia with a kiss on his cheek and a five pound bag of original special blend tea leaves from Aulea. Clarus and Weskham had snickered to themselves at Regis stuttering and blushing like a fool while Cid had stood beside the Regalia slightly bewildered at the large bag of tea he was about to put into the trunk.

 

“Shiva’s tits, Aulea, you could knock a daemon out with this thing,” Cid said in shock as he lightly tossed the bag into the air a little and huffed as it slammed back down in his palms from the weight.

 

Aulea just rolled her eyes at the blond man and waved goodbye when they started off down the road. Regis fell in love with the sense of adventure and camaraderie the road trip had given him, but late at night when the others were fast asleep in the large tent, he would quietly heat up some water over the burning campfire and sip from a cheap travel mug while thinking about quiet tea parties in the gardens and Aulea.

 

Cid had come across him doing this about a week into their trip. The man had stumbled out of the tent looking exhausted and stopped when he saw Regis bent over in a hunch in his chair, hands curled about his mug and a blanket draped over the top of his head like a cloak. They stared at each other for a bit before Cid grumbled and pulled out a folding chair to sit beside him.

 

“You look like a fucking nut right now,” Cid said as he tapped the top of Regis’ shoulder with his own.

 

Regis just smirked at Cid’s colorful language and offered him a cup.

 

* * *

 

 

It became a tradition for them to every so often stay up and sip tea together and tell stories or jokes to one another, sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence until one of them called it a night. Cid was twenty-seven years older then Regis, but it felt as though the two had been friends for a lifetime. He met Cid the day he received the Regalia as a birthday gift from his father. The man had looked at the then sixteen year old prince and threatened to shove his wrench up his ass if Regis even scratched the car. Weskham had been stunned at the blatant threat to the Crown Prince, and Clarus looked ready to blow a fuse.

 

“Listen, brat,” a forty-three year old Cid had sharply said to him, eyes promising death, “If I have have to miss even one second of my six year old’s life right now, he’ll probably end up stealing one of my trucks again to drive to his grandma’s house, so believe me when I say that if you even so much as get a single scratch on this car and cause me to work overtime to fix your mess, your head is gonna hang.”

 

Regis had been hard-headed and temperamental then, making sure to squeal the tires and leave tread marks on the floor of the royal garage as he sped away, immediately returning twenty minutes later with a hot blush on his face and the front bumper on the Regalia smashed from the street sign Regis ran into.

 

“A cat ran into the road…” he muttered as Cid’s face started turning into a scary rendition of Titan’s face. 

 

Regis had been force by his dad and Cid to spend every spare hour he had to help fix the damage done to the Regalia, and the weeks spent there made Regis realize just how hard the work was and how kind the short-tempered mechanic really was behind his loud cursing and yelling.

 

(Cid used to make fun of him all the time for that incident. Before Niflheim betrayed them. Before Cid had looked at him with a face full of disgust and hurt when he turned away the refugees and summoned the Wall, forcing Insomnia into an overall solitude. Before he had to force Cid to choose between living with his family locked up in a glorified cage or to go out and save the people they had left behind.)

 

* * *

 

  
  


Noctis had only been three years old when Auela had passed away from the scourge.

 

To Regis she seemed fine that day, laughing and running around with Noctis in the gardens, a small tea party for a small boy who smiled like the sun itself. He had been sitting down on a bench nearby — his leg had been hurting him lately, the doctors hadn’t seemed able find a cause — when he heard Noctis crying. He looked up to see his wife in a fetal position on the ground, clutching her stomach in pain and trying to soothe their son.

 

(She had known for awhile, he learned later on, as she laid dying in their bed. She had wanted to live the rest of her days normal and for him to not blame himself.)

 

He had grabbed her and cradled her into his arms, his leg burning and heart pounding. Black sludge seemed to take the form of her tears and skin, her veins suddenly prominent from the plague running through them. Noctis, too young to understand what was happening but smart enough to know that his mother was hurting, cried, and Regis wept with him.

 

(He didn’t blame himself, to honor her last wishes. He blamed the Crystal for not protecting her. He blamed Solheim for their past sins that caused the Starscourge. He blamed Aulea for not telling him sooner. He blamed Cid and Weskham for leaving him and Clarus alone to deal with this pain. He blamed the Gods themselves for taking her away from him and Noctis.)

 

* * *

 

  
  


Lady Lunafreya reminded him of a young Aulea when Regis first met the young oracle. 

 

Headstrong and outgoing, she had walked right up to Noctis in his wheelchair and promised to fix him. Noctis had burst into grateful tears, and Regis felt his soul lighten just a little bit, thankful that this young girl was so kind and pure to take on the pain of another.

 

(Later on, he wondered if it really was an act of kindness as he thought it was or just the Gods forcing another person to bend to their whim.)

 

The children had spent their visit playing games and weaving flower crowns for one another, Ravus reluctantly joining in at times at his sister’s behest. Regis had smiled at the sight of Noctis slowly becoming able to stand up on his own and walk again without the need of anyone watching him carefully. When he wasn’t in meetings with Queen Sylva or taking care of any paperwork that was emailed to him from Insomnia, Regis spent his time watching his son teach Lunafreya about the proper way to make tea, just as Regis had taught him.

 

Niflheim had launched their attack on Tenebrae during a tea party the children had thrown as a surprise for Regis and Sylva. The adults smiled in amusement as Noctis and Lunafreya took turns playing as hosts, pouring everyone’s tea and rationing out the small berry tarts that Noctis had taken a liking to. Even Ravus seemed to be enjoying himself, although the teenager had crossed his arms and sat in an indifferent yet proper form, not knowing that his lips twitched up every so often when the two younger children did something funny.

 

(Regis doesn’t remember much detail after that. Just sudden gunfire and screaming, him grabbing Noctis and Lunafreya as Ravus laid there bleeding beside his mother. Everything in a haze as all he thought about was making sure Noctis was safe, and when the fog was gone, he was on a boat headed to back Insomnia, Noctis cradled in his arms crying and Lunafreya nowhere in sight.)

 

* * *

 

  
  


Regis started taking his tea time again when Noctis had moved out of the Citadel and started high school. His son was going through a rebellious stage right now, and Regis did not blame him for the hatred he felt towards the crown and its meaning. He granted Noctis’ wish to live his life as a normal teenager, even if it was a temporary reprieve. 

 

(Regis too felt a slight thankfulness at his son’s decision, hating the sad and angry look Noctis got every time he had to watch his father limp his way across the Citadel and become slowly weaker as days passed as the Crystal drained more power out of him to give to Noctis.)

 

For Regis, his weekly afternoon tea was a break from the constant weight of the crown he wore and a time to reflect back on his life to see what he could have done better. Sometimes he wrote letters to Cid, who had been mailing him for a couple of years now about his garage and granddaughter.

 

(They would never be the same as they were before, and Regis’ heart still hurt at that thought.)

 

Clarus was too busy with his family and national security to join Regis for his weekly tea, and Cor was constantly on the move monitoring Niflheim and handling the Crownsguard. The servants were sent away as soon as they laid out the teaware and foodstuffs. Regis sat in peace and quiet for an hour every week, just him and a cup of  hot tea to soothe his soul.

 

(He liked the calmness it brought when he gazed out the windows and sipped on his teacup, nibbling on a small sandwich or pastry here or there. He wouldn’t admit that he felt a little lonely sometimes, just sitting there by himself in a big room with too much food and drink for him to eat alone.)

 

Today was a rainy and dark day, he observed at the flashes of lightning outside the giant windows of his personal sitting room. Sipping on his hot tea and thankful for being inside with a fireplace lit behind him, Regis turned back to the small word search he had brought with him to pass the time. A squeaking sound echoed outside the room, indicting someone was in the hallway with wet shoes. Regis twitched at one particular harsh squeak and made a mental note to ask one of the servants to lay down a rug in the hall later. The squeaking seemed to pass by the sitting room door and fade away as whoever outside headed on their merry way.

 

Regis just circled another word in his book and took a sip from his cup, the quiet settling in for just a moment before suddenly the squeaking was back louder and quicker then before, as if the person outside was running down the hall. Regis furrowed his brow and looked up towards the noise, only to become startled as suddenly the door to his sitting room was flung open and a small form shoved itself in and quickly shut the door behind it. Standing before him was a shivering blonde boy, soaked to the bone and wearing a messy school uniform.

 

“May I help you, son?” Regis asked, a bit perplexed at this unexpected visitor, setting his cup down onto its saucer.

 

The boy seemed to startle and let out a small, high pitched shriek, whipping around and pressing his back up against the door behind him. Freckles scattered in small bursts around the boys face, peppering around a pair of blue eyes that seemed to fade into a gentle violet in some spots. Regis recognized this boy from a picture in the intelligence folder Ignis had handed him at one point a couple of months ago, when they learned that Noctis had befriended a boy at his school. Regis remembers looking over the scarce documentations in the folder and feeling a bit worried at the lack of information, looking up to say something to Ignis and catching Cor’s eye at the door, who shook his head at him in a way that the King knew was the Immortal’s way of saying that this boy was safe, even if the lack of documentation said otherwise.

 

“I-I’m sorry, Sir, uh, Your Majesty, uh, I just,” the teenager squeaked out in a panic. “We, uh, Noctis and I were outside playing soccer and then, uh, it started raining so we decided to move indoors and then Iggy — I mean, uh, Ignis started chasing us with Gladio because we were getting water and mud everywhere, so,” the boy’s fingertips twitched and shook. Regis couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or the cold. “Noctis and I decided to split up to avoid getting lectured, and I thought I saw Gladio and just ran into the nearest room, I’m sorry for bothering you, I’ll leave.”

 

Regis held up his hand in a stopping motion and the boy — Prompto Argentum, that was the name on the folder handed to him — froze with his hand on the doorknob. 

 

“I understand too well the lecturing of my previous caretakers in my youth and from the stories my son has told me, Ignis is quite the warrior with his words.” Regis smiled in amusement, and Prompto seemed to relax just a little, his hand no longer clutching the doorknob until his knuckles turned white. “However, I have noticed that you are quite soaked from the rain and it would do no good for you to catch a cold because of my son. Please have a seat and a cup of tea.” 

 

It took several minutes to convince Prompto to sit down, insisting that the expensive chairs would be fine if they got a little wet and that it was no trouble to Regis if the boy shared a cup of tea with him.

 

“I would be quite happy to have the opportunity to get to know my son’s best friend.”

 

Prompto had flushed at that and cautiously sat down on the high backed chair sitting opposite of Regis. After pouring the boy a fresh cup of tea and insisting that he take a couple of sandwiches from the tiny table before them, he watched in amusement as Prompto took a sip from the small cup, his pinky finger sticking wildly out and shaking at the strain and face blanching at the strong herbal taste that hit him.

 

“W-Woah, this stuff is strong.” Prompto coughed out, his face pinching as he pulled back to squint at the brown liquid in his teacup as if it were mocking him.

 

“Well, I have not yet met someone strong enough to drink a cup of Shiva’s Breath willingly, without adding anything to it first.” He gestured to the tea tray and its assorted small containers of milk, cream and sugars. 

 

Prompto smiled sheepishly and took up the small tongs for the sugar cubes, dropping three in before he was satisfied with the taste. While it wasn’t Regis’ favorite tea, Shiva’s Breath left a warm, minty taste in his mouth and the back of his throat, perfect for rainy days such as these.

 

(His favorite tea would always be Aulea’s special mix. A recipe he had lost years ago somewhere along the way thanks to his hectic life and fading memory from old age.)

 

Their conversation was filled with awkward pauses here and there, Regis asking about school and Noctis while Prompto fumbled with his words to respond properly and failing. After a couple of minutes of somewhat casual chatter, Prompto seemed to relax and even showed Regis pictures on his phone that he had taken of the Crown Prince fast asleep in different positions in different classes throughout the day.

 

“It’s like a weird sort of natural art form he does,” Prompto said grinning to Regis, smile filled with affection and good intentions.

 

Regis pulled out a secret album he kept tucked away under his seat cushion —safely hidden from Noctis after he discovered Regis’s secret stash in his personal library— and in it was pictures filled with hilarious sleeping positions he had found Noctis in over the course of his son’s life. One image was of a young Noctis fast asleep against a dignitary of a noble family during a formal dinner party had both men weeping from laughter. There was another picture where Noctis had somehow fell asleep while riding a small chocobo, his leg wrapped around the harness of the bird and his body dragging on the ground. Right when Regis was about to show Prompto a photo of Noctis sticking halfway out from under his bed and snoozing, the door swung open, and a much older Noctis, Gladio and Ignis came rushing into the room looking panicked.

 

“Your Majesty.” Ignis stepped forward, bowing quickly and glaring down at Prompto. “I apologize for this incident and — ” 

 

Regis waved off Ignis with one hand and smiled gently at him.

 

“There is no need to apologize, Ignis. I have quite enjoyed this time Prompto and I spent together.”

 

Ignis seemed confused and reluctant to accept that response, but Noctis just pushed past him to grab Prompto by his arm and drag him out of the seat.

 

“Right, great, dad’s cool with it, let’s go.” 

 

Regis frowned a little at his son’s brash manners and at the realization that his time with Prompto had come to an end, the room seeming to becoming a little more lonelier as the boys turned to head out the door to be on their way, Gladio headlocking Prompto and guiding him out by force. Noctis stepped out after them and seemed to watch on as his best friend was choked out by his Shield. Ignis bowed once more to the king as a respectful goodbye and turned to leave before being stopped by Regis’ voice.

 

“Ignis, wait.” The king grabbed his pen and word search book, tearing out the back page and scribbling down a few words before folding it neatly and handing it to the bewildered advisor. “Be sure to give that to Prompto for me.”

 

Ignis gave a hesitant nod and walked out of the room, leaving Regis once again in silence. Picking up his tea and sipping at the now cold liquid, the king glanced at the clock and noticed it was time to head back to his study for work. Setting the cup down and standing up with a pained groan, Regis limped his way to the door and shut it gently behind him on his way out. Hopefully next week he would have his new guest return for another visit and they could continue on with their conversation from before.

 

(And maybe the room wouldn’t be so lonely, and Regis would finally have someone to help him finish a pot of tea again.)

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on my tumblr, berryfartsart


End file.
